On the Wing
m a y b e i ' m d r e a m i n g previous: none next: rainbow veins original song On the Wing Breathe and I'll carry you away into the velvet sky And we'll stir the stars around And watch them fall away into the Hudson Bay And plummet out of sight and sound My name's Lapis. I've been whisked away. My mother holds me by my scruff as she drops me onto the ground. "Listen, Lapis." She's panting hard, and she's breathlessly tired. "You gotta run, Lapis. Don't stay, run, run as far as you can." And then jaws closed around her throat, and that was the last day I saw her alive. That was when I was merely a moon old. Now I'm several moons older, and it feels like it's happening all over again. The open summer breeze will sweep you through the hills Where I live in the alpine heights Below the Northern Lights, I spend my coldest nights Alone, awake and thinking of...the weekend we were in love My adoptive parents are fighting. Again. I shouldn't leave...but yet, it feels like I should. It's not like they'd care anyway, they never wanted to take me in. But they did anyway, and I'll never know why. Eventually they did have kits - three of them. Two arrogant toms and one slightly less arrogant but irritable she-cat. Their father, tortoiseshell. Their mother, silver tabby. I look nothing like either of them. Sure, I'm gray..well, dark gray. My fur appears like speckled dark blue-gray water in the right lighting. But otherwise, I'm just dark gray with blue eyes. Again, nothing like them, not to mention their kits. The kits are pretty much the same colors as their parents. The she-cat's tortoiseshell with green eyes, one tom orange tabby with amber eyes, and the other brown tabby with green eyes. And that still removes me from their looks. I feel like they're ashamed of me, like they don't want me, like they'd rather me die over any or their kits, even though I'm nearly double their age. I want to run away. I want to live my own life. And that's what I'll do. Someday. ~ Home among these mountain tops can be so awfully dull A thousand miles from the tide But photos on the walls of New York shopping malls Distract me so I stay inside So I run. Just like I did all those moons ago. I don't look around, or back. I just run. But I feel like I'm being followed, like my adopted family is coming after me to kill me. Eventually, I actually do admire the scenery. The trees tower above my head, a leaf landing on my back as I walk slowly. The scale-like diamond-patterned bark slithers up the trunk, and the leaves are glorious shade of green. The blue sky is stained with dark clouds, and I hear a crack of thunder. It's going to storm soon. I wish the rockets stayed over the promenade Cuz I would make a hook and eye And fish them from the sky, my darling, she and I We're hanging on so take us high To sing the world goodbye... The thunder cracks above my head again, but this time, it comes pouring down, drenching my fur. Much as I enjoy water, I don't like it when it pours all over me. I hear a rustle in the leaves and glance over my shoulder, but the noise is gone. Someone has followed me. ~ I am floating away Lost in a silent ballet I try to find who followed me, but all I can find is their scent, however faint. It stinks of my abusive, adoptive parents. I can't distinguish the exact scent, whether it was one of the toms, the she-cat, or my adopted mother or father. Either way, it smells horribly sickening, exact how they smelled. I wasn't exactly free from their trash-pit of a home, but that's exactly where they got their horrid scent from. I'm not completely sure how it smelled so bad. There were at least a few sources, but the main ones were the trash, whatever herb they kept fiddling around with (I think it was catmint?) and the horrid smell of carrion. My adoptive parents always fought and they always smelled like catmint. I don't know how they ended up with three kits of their own. It was always pretty abusive in there. I'm dreaming you're out in the blue and I am right beside you Awake to take in the view That night, I shelter in a tree trunk. It smells so much better than that dump I lived in for most of my life. The bark is sweet, like the forest, and I love it. Mainly, I just love being away from them, to be in the forest. It really does feel amazing to be free after being trapped in the most repulsive environment. The stars look glorious from the core of the tree. A few make little shapes - I wonder what they're called? Either way, they're very pretty, and the brilliant full moon glares down at me. Despite the damp bark at the center, it already feels like home. I've got my life in my paws now. Late nights and early parades Still photos and noisy arcades I didn't realize how loud the forest would be at night. Sure, we had the occasion bang and roar, but no crickets or leaves. We had rats that always squeaked, the carrion made you want to vomit (every night, something died in there) and there was always the possibility of being caught in some sort of snare or trap. A horrid environment, isn't it? I thought so. The forest is much, much louder than anything my old home was. My darling, we're both on the wing, look down and keep on singing! And we can go anywhere Crickets echoing in the leaves, the occasion hoot of an owl, the rustling of the leaves. A hiss. I think. ~ Are you there? Are you there, or are you just a decoy dream in my head? Am I home or am I simply tumbling all alone? ''' I wonder about that hiss for some reason. Was it a snake or a cat? I'm not sure. But I know I'll find out eventually. So I wait through the the night, silent, asleep. But in the morning, after a meal, I'm going to search for them. ~ '''I am floating away Lost in a silent ballet I'm dreaming you're out in the blue and I am right beside you Awake to take in the view Some of the birds amaze me; their brilliant feathers awe me. It makes me want to get a bunch of those and try to fly. Just kidding. I can't be a flying cat. Anyway, I don't hear a moan or anything - it must've been a snake. I'll have to get used to this stuff. But then I find a pool of blood, and my own blood runs cold. I'm not alone. Late nights and early parades Still photos and noisy arcades All day, I can't stop thinking about that blood. There's something here, around here, and my gut says that I won't be able to do anything to stop them. Silently, I think of anything that won't scare me as I explore my new home. It's hard, because all I can think of is the blood, and the scarred, deformed faces in my mind. It's horrible. It feels like I'll be killed. But I'll be fine, if I keep the thought in my mind. At least, I think I will. My darling, we're both on the wing, look down and keep on singing! And we can go anywhere Who is she...that's my question. Call me whatever you want, I like her. She's got spunk, despite her silence. I'll find her, and she'll end up as a victim. Dead under my claws. Blood. Her blood. And nobody came to save her, because she has no family. I can see it in her gaze. Nobody will come, and she won't be alive...Or, at least, I think she won't. If she does survive, she will get killed by foxes. And nobody will save her life. Are you there? Category:Maybe I'm Dreaming Category:Stormver's Fanfiction Category:Stormver's Songfics